


Lockout

by Corvid_Knight



Series: Demonstuck [28]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Demonstuck, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mention of Past Abuse, Telepathy, demon!karkat, empath!dave, mention of Bro - Freeform, technically empathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 09:40:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15927797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corvid_Knight/pseuds/Corvid_Knight
Summary: Dave's out on a job with Rose when Karkat gets a worrisome mental flash from him. And then absolutely nothing from him.This is why they're supposed to go together, Dave.





	Lockout

He doesn't shut you out much. Not anymore. That's something he mostly left behind in the first couple years you knew him, the time you spent carefully breaking his fucking _bastard_ of a brother's hold on him. It's fucking awful—it was fucking awful, at least, how Dave couldn't even kind of move past that shit for years after that fucker died. 

But yeah, it's been what seems like almost forever, now. He's better, usually, and he only shuts you out of his head when he's physically hurt or so goddamn overwhelmed that his survival instincts kick in and force him to shut _everyone_ out. 

You're pretty fucking sure that now is not one of those times. Either of them. 

What happens is, you get a freezing jolt of what might be horror—it's too faint to tell, the miles between the two of you almost blurring your impressions from him into uselessness—and, very fucking suddenly, something intangible but very, very real slams down across the link. 

"Fuck!" you snarl, and slam the (unfortunately fragile) piece of circuitry you were holding for Jade down onto the counter, much too hard. She looks between your face and the shattered pieces (and little blots of blood already dripping out of your fist; you _dumbass_ , if you're going to break shit at least shapeshift first) her green eyes going wider behind her round glasses as you open your hand and start yanking splinters of whatever the fuck circuit boards are made of out. 

Across the room, Dirk sighs. A second later he's at your side, impatiently knocking your good hand out of the way and growling right back when you reflexively snarl. His voice doesn't reflect any of that when he speaks, though. "Was that the motherboard, or the one you were going to use to coordinate processes?" 

"No idea." You shrug, scowling down at your hand as your nails flicker into claws. Fuck. 

"Karkat, I love you, but you don't even know what a capacitor is. I didn't expect an answer from you. Jade?" 

"Secondary motherboard, I think—forget it, I'll fix it later." She pushes Dirk's hands out of the way, retrieves the needlenosed pliers he's trying to use on you, and starts delicately removing green shards from your palm. "What happened?" 

You're not sure how to answer that. Closing your eyes and trying to dive into the empath bond between you and Dave gives you nothing but the taste of iron between your teeth; he's shut you down really fucking well. It argues against him being injured and isolating to protect you; you'd feel that. You know you would. 

He could be in overload mode, you guess. Probably not. That never lasts more than a minute or two before he opens himself at least a crack, lets you in even if he tries to keep the world out, and it's been more than a few fucking minutes by the time you give up and open your eyes again. 

Fuck, you don't _know_ what's wrong with him. "Fuck!" 

Jade pulls back from your hand like she thinks she's the one who hurt you, glancing at your face for a second. "Okay, is this a Dave thing or a not-Dave thing?" she asks, and you almost smile at the fact that it's that goddamn easy to narrow shit down. Everything does boil down to either being about him or not being about him, after all. 

Plus, a nice binary question is a fuck of a lot easier to answer than the open-ended shit that's running through your head. "Dave." 

Dirk's already scooping up your phone from the table, holding it out wordlessly to you as you pull your damaged hand away from Jade. From the way she pouts, you know that she doesn't agree with this decision, but she doesn't try to stop you as you stalk out of the workroom. Neither does Dirk, even though you know he'd rather have you where he can keep track of you. 

Hey, you're pretty fucking scary when you're upset.

* * *

carcinoGeneticist [CG] started pestering turntechGodhead [TG]!

CG: DAVE?   
CG: DAVE, WHAT'S GOING ON? I CAN FEEL YOU SHUTTING ME THE FUCK DOWN RIGHT NOW, ASSHOLE.    
CG: ARE YOU OKAY? TALK TO ME.

turntechGodhead is not accepting messages at this time!

CG: FUCK. PLEASE?  
CG: DAVE?  
CG: PLEASE JUST CHECK YOUR FUCKING PHONE. YOU DON'T EVEN HAVE TO ANSWER. LEAVE ME ON READ IF YOU HAVE TO. PLEASE. 

turntechGodhead is not accepting messages at this time!

CG: GODS FUCKING DAMN IT.

carcinoGeneticist disconnected!

* * *

carcinoGeneticist [CG] started pestering tentacleTherapist [TT]!

CG: IF YOU HAVE YOUR FUCKING MESSAGES ON SILENT TOO I'M GOING TO SHADOWWALK RIGHT THE FUCK TO WHEREVER YOU ARE AND RIP SOMETHING TO VERY FUCKING SMALL SCRAPS OF VISCERA AND ENTRAILS.

TT: That sounds quite interesting, but also completely unnecessary.    
TT: Is it worth it to ask what's promoting this strange ire, or are you going to make me guess?

CG: WHERE THE FUCK IS DAVE?

TT: About three feet from me, teaching an eleven-year-old how to apply a temporary warding tattoo.

CG: OKAY. GOOD. AWESOME.   
CG: WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED?

TT: Nothing happened.    
TT: The girl's a channeler, like Hal thought she'd be from the description her parents gave D. We're giving them a couple thousand temporary tattoos of warding symbols to keep spirits off her, if she needs some quiet time in her head, and the names of a couple more experienced psychics to teach her how to handle it a little better without blocking them off artificially.   
TT: What did you think happened?

CG: I DON'T FUCKING KNOW.   
CG: SOMETHING HAPPENED. DAVE'S CUT ME OUT OF HIS HEAD.   
CG: DOES HE LOOK OKAY?

TT: This is Dave we're discussing, Karkat.

CG: YOU'RE THE FUCKING PSYCHIATRIST! DOES HE LOOK LIKE HE'S FUCKED UP RIGHT NOW?   
CG: IT'S A SIMPLE ASS QUESTION. HE'S YOUR FUCKING BROTHER, DON'T YOU KNOW HIM WELL ENOUGH TO BE ABLE TO TELL ABOUT THIS SHIT?   
CG: FUCK!

TT: Karkat.

CG: WHAT?!

TT: Not to sound clichè, but take a deep breath. Set a timer for two hours. Put your phone down.   
TT: We're leaving as soon as the warding tattoo Dave put on the girl dries enough to kick in.

CG: LET HIM DRIVE. IT HELPS.

TT: Of course.    
TT: We'll see you shortly, Karkat.

tentacleTherapist disconnected! 

* * *

You actually do manage to not spam Dave with messages. Kind of. Does six count as spam? 

...possibly, but you _have_ to keep checking. Keeping the interval between each time at around twenty minutes is actually a struggle, since he never fucking opens back up.   
You could, possibly, pry at his defenses until he let you in. You're a demon, after all, and your love is just a human empath. A self-trained human empath, because he's always been too leery of letting anyone he doesn't know (anyone who's not you) dig around in his head, even if it's just to teach him shit. As a result, you're much more skilled in offensive techniques than he is with defensive ones. 

There is absolutely no way you'd ever force your way into Dave's mind. _Never._

So. You retreat back into your (and his) room, find his laptop and put on a movie you've seen about twenty times already, and curl up on the bed to fume through the fucking thing. It's funny how feigned anger still definitely helps you take your mind off fear and concern. 

Kind of. 

You still can't feel him properly, and no amount of fake emotion can blur that void away.

* * *

When he comes through the wards around the house you do feel it, but you're barely out of the room and into the hall before Dave comes through the door at a speed that's too fast to be casual and just a bit too slow to be called a run. He doesn't slow down at all, either, just not-quite-tackles you, arms wrapping around your waist and shades falling right the fuck off his nose as he presses his face against your chest. 

_Fuck, Dave._ You don't know if he hears your thought, as you loop one hand over his shoulders and reach up with the other to stroke through soft white hair. Over his shoulder, you can see Rose; from her startled expression you're going to guess that he seemed fine the whole ride back. _You shouldn't cover shit up with her._

Dave makes a muffled sound against your chest, shoving against you to try to get you to take a step back, into the privacy of your room again. "Wanted to get home," he says, still muffled, with no clearer mental echo in your head. "You know Rose." 

"Yeah, I know." She'd call a halt to everything, to get him okay again. Then again, so would you. 

_Be still,_ you tell him, and you shift just a hair closer to your other form, just the claws and horns and strength beyond a human's, using that strength to scoop Dave up off his feet. You give him a second to relax and curl against you, then carry him into the room and kick the door shut. He doesn't even squirm as you settle on the bed with him on your chest, laying back and holding him close. 

Once you're settled, you open your mind to him, laying yourself bare even though he's still locked away from you. You know Dave can still see without seeing, hear without hearing, and you want him to see your concern, your willingness to do anything to help him, your sheer fucking _love_ for him. 

His breath catches. It's a small reaction, but it's there, it's noticeable to you. 

"Tell me," you say softly after a moment, not quite making it a whisper. 

"Change first," Dave says right back, hands moving to find your shoulders and twisting up handfuls of your shirt. He doesn't look up; you start to analyze _why_ he doesn't want to look at you, and then mentally punch the part of your mind that has apparently absorbed too fucking much from Rose. "Full demon. Please, 'kat." 

You would have done it without that almost broken pleading note. You hope he knows that. 

Dave doesn't move, and neither do you, but your weight shifts slightly as you swap out your human form for the one you were born in. (Well, kind of. You were a hell of a lot smaller then, after all.) The hand on his head grows talons, fingers lengthen and add joints, membranous wings phase into existence underneath you, spreading to stretch for a second before coming back in to gently enfold the precious person lying on your chest. 

As you envelope him in this closer embrace, Dave takes a shuddery breath. He relaxes physically, but the barriers in his mind still don't fall. 

_I'm right here,_ you think at him. _I've got you. We're together, and I'll murder anyone who tries to change that._

"Gotta fight me for the goddamn pleasure," Dave mumbles into the soft white skin where your throat meets your collarbone. Then he's silent for a long moment, before asking, "Did Rose tell you about her? The kid we went to see, I mean—" 

"She's a channeler." _She speaks to spirits._

Dave makes a noise you can't define, pressing his face harder into your chest and breathing deep. "No," he corrects you, "she talks to _ghosts_. They talk to her. Through her." 

"Ghosts." Oh, fuck. _Who?_

You're not even sure if he hears your query, because he keeps talking. "Rose got video, as, like, a reference—her eyes go white when it happens, you know? Like Kankri's when he's digging in somebody's head. Like—like—" 

The barrier between his mind and yours falters for a moment as he struggles for words; you wonder if he'll simply send you the image he's trying to paraphrase. He doesn't. The wall stabilizes again, leaving you still outside of him.

"Corpse eyes," he says, finally. "White, like they're dead. But they...don't stay like that. You don't touch her, you don't try to wake her, and in a couple minutes her eyes aren't blank, they're...fuck." 

Dave laughs. You don't like the tone of that sound. 

"Fuck, when I saw 'em they w-were orange." 

His voice breaks on the next-to-last word; your concern at that means that it takes you about two seconds longer than it should to connect what he said to what it means. Still, you get it almost immediately. 

When you understand who spoke to Dave, you _snarl_ , wings drawing even closer around him. How _dare_ that bastard keep trying this shit? He's dead and gone, and still he's torturing _your_ love— 

Dave pushes himself up, hands on your chest holding his weight up enough that he can lean down to kiss you, softer lips brushing against sharp fangs as you oh-so-carefully kiss him back. In this form, you're much warmer than him, but even so you can feel the memory of how warm his mouth has been in other kisses. 

This close, he either can't or doesn't want to stay closed to you; for a moment you get a flash of Dave's mind, all tangled reds and shades of grey, so many flavors of emotion that you understand why he's trying to keep you out of it for the moment. 

Of course, understanding it doesn't mean you think it's the right move. As soon as you start trying to smooth the mess out, though, Dave pulls back both physically and mentally, giving you a quick, tiny smile before he lies back down on top of you. "No." 

_I want to fucking help you!_

"I know you do, but I'm okay." 

"Liar." It's almost a growl, and Dave not-quite-laughs against your chest again. "I know you, Dave." 

"Mmm. Quit arguing." 

You growl at him, and he growls back like it's a joke. Which it is. Then you ask, "Rose didn't see him?" 

"...I dunno. I don't think so...he didn't talk to her. Waited until she was out of the room to hit me with his shit, y'know?"

You do know. You fucking hate that Rose left him alone, you hate that _you_ weren't there to—

"Quit it," he says, quietly. 

You growl at him again, a soft grumble deep in your chest. _What did he do?_

Dave shrugs a bit, nuzzling against you until you get the message and start petting his hair again. "Talked. Couple sentences; shit about how—I'm gonna follow in his footsteps 'n shit. He said him 'n D got me 'n Dirk basically the same way we found Davesprite—I gotta ask D about that later, because if I'm actually some weirdass magic thing I feel like I should be aware of it—" 

He's not going to shut up about that, is he. You nudge at the barrier between your mind and his, not enough to actually threaten its integrity but enough to get his attention. Once you have it, you tell him, "You're nothing like him." 

Dave raises his head enough to look at you, and extricates one arm to tap first his forehead, then his chest. The first time he used that gesture to explain how he felt about something was over a decade ago, and yet you still know exactly what he means. He knows in his head that that fucker lies, but knowing doesn't change the gut reaction. 

_Which is why I'm fucking telling you that it's a lie,_ you think at him. _So you have more input. So you know._

He nods, and presses his face into your neck again. "He said something else." 

"Yeah?" 

"He said being dead hurts, for him. Like—when I was dead, it didn't hurt, didn't really feel like anything. But I heard him then, wherever we were, and he was fuckin' _screaming,_ okay? Like he was being burned alive, like—I don't know. He said it's been that bad the whole fuckin' time, and y'know what I told him?" 

Dave raises his head, and you shift to wipe away the tears that're on the very edge of spilling from those red eyes. You do know what he said, or you can guess, but you shake your head anyway. 

" _Good._ And I meant it—he fu—he fucking deserves to hurt, as much as he can and a lil' bit more, but he laughed at me when I said it." Dave sucks in another breath, leaning into your hands and closing his eyes. "He knew _exactly_ what I was sayin', man. Like, he's still fucked over, stuck in whatever hell Kurloz dumped him in, but he can fuckin' laugh because he made me into the ki—into the kind of person who's happy about somebody else gettin' hurt—" 

"Oh Jesus _fuck_ , Dave," you groan, and you push yourself up to a sitting position, cradling him in your arms and wrapping him with your wings as he shakes and tries not to sob. The latter efforts last only a couple of seconds before he gives up and just fucking dissolves in your arms; you're actually relieved. 

_You're not him,_ you tell him, silently, as you kiss the top of his head. _Never. I would've said the same thing you did, and fucking meant it too._

"Yeah, 'cause you're always in my head," he mumbles. 

"No, because that bastard deserves that shit. Do I really need to go find Dirk and ask him? Rose? D? Jake—" 

Dave shakes his head, both hands coming up to grab your small horns and pull you down so he can reach your face, as he stretches up. The moment his lips touch yours, he's fully open again, nothing at all between his mind and yours. It's like coming up for air from some deep water; fuck, you're so amazingly dependent on him. 

_Don't need anyone but you,_ he thinks, and you growl possessively against his mouth and echo the thought right back.


End file.
